Comfort
by zentamaus
Summary: Beckett has to deal with the gruesome double murder of a dog and a human. Castle comforts her. One-shot. Complete.


**FanFiction**

CASTLE

Kate Beckett & Richard Castle

Set between 4x13 and 4x19

_**Comfort**_

_Beckett has to deal with the gruesome double murder of a dog and a human. Castle comforts her. One-shot. Complete._

What kind of person would beat up an animal? An innocent being? It's sick and it disgusts her. She's seen dozens of mutilated bodies, could almost always understand the rage, but an animal? Not so much.

The dog obviously wasn't the main target, there was a male body lying on the ground next to it, otherwise she wouldn't be here. The man was handsome, probably in his mid-forties and has a knife in his ribs, right were the heart is. _Was_ handsome, not just because he's gone now, but because his face is swollen up and covered in fresh bruises.

Standing over two dead bodies – one human, one animal – Kate is trying to figure out why the perp had killed the dog.

As she lifts her gaze to take in the crime scene with its surroundings she sees Castle arriving, cup holder with two coffee mugs in one and a brown take-out bag in the other hand. He widely smiles at her when their eyes meet and lock for a second. Kate walks around the bodies, breaking the eye-contact in order to watch her step. She ducks under the yellow band to meet him on the other side of the crime scene tape, since liquids and food aren't allowed on scene. She grins at him when he hands her her coffee.

"Hey, thanks." She takes a small sip.

"Hey, what do we got? Is it gruesome?" He wiggles his eyebrows, his voice excited.

She glares at him, almost spits the words. "Yes, actually it is!"

His grin falls and he looks equal parts hurt and worried.

That's not how she meant to say it, though, with a voice cold as ice, but that scene really got to her. She immediately feels sorry for talking to him like that.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to – it's just – I - "

"No, it's OK. Sorry, my fault. I shouldn't ask immature questions like that" His voice calming, apologetic, it soothes her. "You need to stay here or are we ready to head off to the precinct?"

"Thank you", she says, almost inaudible, shy, then louder: "We can go back, I think I'm done here."

They walk to her car in silence. When they reach it Castle walks around it to the passenger seat while Kate already buckles in and starts the engine.

He turns to look at her when she pulls out onto the street but she keeps her eyes on the road, floating through the light midnight traffic.

"He killed the dog", she whispers, tears in her eyes.

"What?"

"The killer, he killed the dog too." She blinks heavily to keep the tears from running down her cheeks. Her vision blurs, cars become funny shaped spots, traffic lights look like red, yellow and green stars.

"Oh" He is obviously shocked. "Why would someone do that?"

She takes a deep, shaky breath and keeps her eyes fixated on the road.

"Hey", he reaches over the console to lay his hand on her knee, "we're gonna get whoever did this and they'll get what they deserve."

"I know..." Hey voice trails off and so does her right hand. She puts it over his and twines their fingers together. She sees Castle stiffen with surprise in her peripheral view, but still keeps her eyes strictly on the road.

It is when they are parked in front of the precinct that she finally turns to face him. He smiles at her and what she sees in his eyes can only be love.

"Thank you." She squeezes his fingers.

"Always", he answers, closing his eyes for a second at the word, the way he always does when he says it.

The tears are almost gone by now. She looks him right in the eyes and openly smiles at him, telling him _thank you_ again.

In that moment, with their hands entwined and eyes locked, a wall seems to break, that exact wall that kept her from living, from living with him.

Before she can think about it, or rather, without even thinking about it, she leans towards him, slowly, tentatively, awaiting his reaction. And he – how could it be differently – leans in to shorten the space between them.

Their hands are still on her knee, their faces only an inch apart. He lifts his right hand to tuck a lose strand of hair behind her ear and then settles his hand on her cheek, softly brushing the bone under her eye with his thumb.

Her eyes flicker from his left eye to his right and down to his mouth and up to his eyes and down again. Her mind still wandering, wondering about her case. But then he smiles and leans forward that last inch to softly press his lips to hers and for a second there, she forgets about everything else.


End file.
